


An Eternity With You

by Sosh_022



Series: Fleurmione Week 2021 [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 14th Century, Crack, Dark Hermione Granger, Day 4: Drinking Games, F/F, FW2021.1, Fleurmione Week 2021, Happy Ending, Hundred Years War - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Middle Ages, Temporary Character Death, This is not one of those times, This is pure crack, Vampire AU, and wrote this in two hours, i spent five minutes on wikipedia, i'm so sorry to all the history buffs, nothing about this is correct, sometimes i take writing very seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 18:21:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30126942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sosh_022/pseuds/Sosh_022
Summary: Fleur dies and Hermione defies the laws of life and death to bring her back. Because sometimes, one lifetime is not enough.
Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Hermione Granger
Series: Fleurmione Week 2021 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2222310
Comments: 16
Kudos: 86
Collections: Fleurmione Week 2021.1





	An Eternity With You

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Day 4 of Fleurmione Week! Here's an unplanned, crackish, vampire au oneshot! (I promise, I squeezed the prompt in there.)

The year was 1430. Famine ravaged the earth. Death devastated the cities. And war plagued the human mind. 

Welcome to the late middle ages. 

* * *

  
  


Explosions blasted around them, cracking through the air with deadly chaos. Even the earth, unspared, trembled beneath such power. 

“We’re not going to make it!” yelled Jeanne. 

“We have to!” Hermione snapped the reins against her horse, forcing it to go faster. Her grip tightened around Fleur’s limp body, pressing Fleur protectively into her chest. 

Fleur could not die. Not now. Not if Hermione could help it. 

In the distance overhead, a fortress peeked through the forest canopy, inching closer ever so slowly. They were so close, so close to freedom, to France, to home. Curse the British and their anti-apparition spells. 

Hermione knew from the beginning this whole operation had been a trap. It’d been too simple. Too pretty. If only she’d listened to her gut. Then maybe Fleur wouldn’t be dying in her embrace right now. 

“We’ll never make it to the border at this rate!” Jeanne shouted.

“Then what do you suggest we do?” Hermione growled. “Do you have any ideas?” 

“Only one.” 

Resolve hardened over Jeanne’s face. Hermione barely registered what was happening before Jeanne yanked on her reins, wringing her horse around and bolting right back into the path of their pursuers. 

“Jeanne!” 

“Keep going!” Jeanne shouted. Hermione muffled a scream as a killing curse flew past Jeanne’s head. “Get Fleur back to safety. I’ll meet you in the usual spot. On the night of the blue moon!”

“Jean-”

“Go!”  
  


Hermione whipped down on her reins, her grip on Fleur tightening as they sped through the uneven forest floor. She chanced a look over her shoulder and watched as the British knights surrounded her friend. 

Jeanne – brave, foolish, Jeanne – fought off the onslaught of curses that bombarded her with the fury of an unrelenting lioness, screaming her justice cry, before being brought to her knees by the impact of seven stunning curses in the chest. 

Hermione watched as she fell. She blinked the tear out of her eyes and refocused on the path in front of them, clutching Fleur to her chest. She promised she would do her best by Jeanne’s sacrifice. 

As soon as they were out British territory, Hermione dipped into her magical reserve, pulling on the tugging sensation in her gut. In the blink of an eye, they were gone. 

And that was the last time Hermione ever saw Jeanne d’Arc. 

* * *

  
  


Hermione gently raised the spoon of warm soup to Fleur’s pale lips. Their resources were scarce, especially in time of war, but Hermione was not going to spare any expense when it came to Fleur. The rest of the world could starve and destroy each other in its greed as long as Fleur was okay. Hell if she cared. 

“How are you feeling?”

Fleur swallowed the soup with difficulty. “Better.”

Hermione frowned at her lover. “Please don’t lie to me.”

Fleur cracked a weak smile. “I’m not. I feel better than yesterday.” She brought an arm out from under the bed covers and cupped Hermione’s cheek. 

“See?” she grinned cutely. “I’ll be better before you know it.” 

Hermione sighed, leaning into the touch. “I promise you, I will find out whatever curse that _batard,_ ” – she spat, eyes burning with hellish fury – “hit you with and cure you back to full health if it is the last thing I do.” Her eyes softened. “That _branleur_ deserves to rot in hell for what he did to you.”

Fleur laughed weakly. “I believe in you.”

Hermione’s hands were impossibly gentle as she fed the rest of the soup to Fleur before tucking her under the covers. “Rest up.”

“I will. And stop worrying your cute buttocks. I’ll be better in a few days. Just watch.”  
  


* * *

Fleur’s condition did not improve over the next few days. 

By the end of the week, she could no longer get out of bed. Confined to such a small space, Fleur knew her time was near. Hermione could accept no such defeat. 

  
  


* * *

Hermione pulled the dark cloak closer to her face, hiding her features in the shadows. All of her painstaking research had led her here, to this plain unsuspecting house in the middle of the woods. 

Here, the birds still sang their songs, and the air moved with nature’s dance – a land untouched by war. 

Hermione couldn’t help but scoff. Of course a wizard such as the one she sought after would hide so thoroughly from the hands of death. 

She raised her hand and felt the air for magical currents. The air thrummed in response to her tampering. There were strong enchantments in the air, powerful ones – ones that were only capable of being casted by someone who feared death like none other.

At least she knew she was in the right place. 

The protective measures were impressive, but Hermione didn’t come all the way here to get stopped by someone else’s fear. 

Her fingers twitched in the air, feeling through the layers of magic, pulling and ripping them apart. Pressure built inside her fingers, the magic resisting her, but Hermione was nothing if not stubborn. Fleur always said it was her best trait. 

Warmth increased in her hand until it grew hot, and hotter still. The magic pulled at her until it was almost too much to bear, until every inch of her felt like it’d been set on fire. 

_‘Burn the witches,’_ Hermione thought humorously. 

The door to the cottage burst open. A young man stood in the doorway, glaring angrily at Hermione. 

Hermione had to admit, he looked to be in amazing shape for someone of his age. 

“What are you doing?!” he yelled at her, waving his hand. “Stop that immediately unless you want to get killed. What do you want?”

Hermione released the magic. Instantly, relief flooded through her system. She ignored the lingering pain and straightened up, staring the man right in the eyes. 

“Nicolas Flamel. I’ve come looking for you.”

The man stiffened, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “There is no Nicolas Flamel here. I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong man.” 

He tried to go back inside, but Hermione was faster. She spelled the door open, fighting against his magic. A battle of wills transpired and after a few tense seconds, the man dropped his arm and stared at her in surprise. 

“Who _are_ you?”

She pulled off her hood. “My name is Hermione Granger. And I need your help.” 

* * *

Fleur cracked open her eyes as she felt a breach in the wards around the cottage. There was a distinct _pop_ as Hermione appeared in front of her along with a strange man. 

“Who’s your friend?” she croaked, barely having the strength to hold her head up. 

Hermione rushed towards her and knelt by her bedside, grasping her hands. 

“He is here to help. He can help you get better.”

The man cleared his throat. “I can’t guarantee this will work–”

Hermione silenced him with a nasty glare. When she turned back towards Fleur, all traces of hostility were gone, replaced by only gentle tenderness. 

“It will work.” 

Fleur recognized the desperation in Hermione’s eyes, the need for her to be okay. The thought of losing Fleur was driving her to the brink of madness and Fleur couldn’t have that. She would never want Hermione to lose herself because of her. 

“It’s okay,” Fleur whispered. “It’s going to be okay. Even if it doesn't work. Just promise me-”

“Don’t say that,” Hermione begged. “It will work.” 

“If it doesn’t,” Fleur persisted. “Promise me-” 

“Please don’t ask me such a thing.” Hermione whispered into her hands. “I fear I am not strong enough.”

“You are strong, my love, you are,” said Fleur. She reached out to stroke a gentle finger, tracing the lines of her lover’s face. Hermione had lost weight recently “Promise me,” she said, “Promise me you’ll move on?”

Hermione leaned in and pressed their foreheads together. “Never.”

Gently, she titled Fleur’s chin and pressed a lingering kiss to her lips, a promise of forever, of eternity. 

She pulled back and gestured for the man to approach. He pulled out a bottle of red liquid and uncorked the top, handing it to Hermione. 

“Here you go my love,” said Hermione. “Drink this, it will help.”

Fleur doubted it. She could feel death coming for her. But she could not upset Hermione, could not rob her lover of her hope. She downed the drink. 

“Well? Do you feel any better?” Hermione asked after several seconds. 

Fleur contemplated her choices.

“Please no more lies,” Hermione begged softly. “Do not try to spare my heart with your false words. I can bear the pain. I can bear _anything_ , except losing you. I need you to be honest with me. It’s the only way I can help.”

Fleur looked down at her hands. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

* * *

  
  
Fleur passed away on the third of the eighth month, and Hermione, distraught by lost love, cried enough tears to flood the heavens. 

“Not yet, please, not yet. I can’t- I can’t let you go. Don’t leave me here by myself. What am I supposed to do? Don’t leave me here, Fleur. Please, don’t leave me.” 

* * *

Hermione mourned her lover for three days and three nights. 

On the fourth day, she stood up from where she knelt by Fleur’s bed and picked up the broken remains of her soul. 

Forever, she’d promised forever. 

Even death would not part them. 

Hermione went to work. 

* * *

It took her exactly seven days to perfect an elixir of life created from the philosopher’s stone and the essence of a bat. She’d read about such magic being possible in the ancient times and now she was about to find out if it worked. 

It was her last hope. She didn’t know what she would do with herself if it didn’t. 

She opened the casket where she kept the preserved body of her lover and injected the serum into her blood. 

She waited. 

“Fleur?”

Eyes fluttered open and Hermione forgot how to breathe. She watched, entranced, as Fleur sat up in her casket, slow and cautious. 

“Fleur?”

Fleur turned and Hermione was struck by the color of her eyes. Red, not blue. 

“It’s me,” Hermione gulped. “You know me.”

Her instincts told her to be on guard, to prepare her magic, but that was silly. This was Fleur, her beloved. She would never hurt her. 

Fleur lunged, pinning Hermione to the wall. Hermione whimpered, unable to fight back, as fangs sank into her neck. 

* * *

“You know, that really hurt, darling,” Hermione complained as Fleur straddled her onto their bed. 

“I’m sorry, I was starving. I hadn’t eaten in what felt like a lifetime and you” – Fleur leaned in, brushing her nose against Hermione’s neck – “smelled delicious.” She licked her lips. “How could I resist?”

Hermione’s pupils dilated, her irises glinting red under the candlelight. She wrapped her arms around Fleur’s neck and pulled her down until their noses brushed against each other. 

“Well now I’m hungry,” she smirked, baring her fangs. 

Fleur leaned in and ran her tongue up the side of Hermione’s neck. “Then what are you waiting for?” she whispered in Hermione’s ear. “Take me.” 

  
  


* * *

For a week, they stay wrapped up in their sheets, enjoying their own little world they’d created for themselves. Hermione refused to let Fleur leave her side, not wanting to expose her to the dangers of the world again. They were content and more than satisfied with their arrangement until they could no longer ignore the panging hunger inside of their stomachs. 

Reluctantly, they ventured out into the night and hunted for the first humans who happened to come across their paths. 

“What if that guy had a wife and kids?” Fleur asked, wiping the blood off her mouth. 

“So?” Hermione shrugged, relishing in the taste of fresh blood. 

Fleur frowned. “This isn’t like you. What happened to you?”

Hermione scoffed. “You died,” said Hermione, pain still fresh in her eyes. “You died and I never truly lived after that.” 

Fleur stared at the shadow of a person of her former lover. “Okay,” she nodded. “Okay.” 

Hermione once went through the impossible to bring Fleur back. Now, Fleur promised she would do whatever it took to bring Hermione back. 

* * *

  
  


Occasionally, they’d hear the sounds of war, still rupturing through the air. But Hermione no longer felt any duty to respond like she did when she was still ‘alive’.

“Don’t you think we should be doing something with this power that we’ve been granted?” asked Fleur. 

“The humans can go fight their petty wars. Why should I care? All I need is you.”

Fleur sighed and held her lover’s hands. “I know. But…” she looked off to the side, biting her lip. “It’s what Jeanne would’ve wanted.”

Hermione stiffened at the mention of their old friend. 

“She would’ve wanted France to be free,” Fleur said wistfully. “She sacrificed her life to save me, to save France. Don’t you think we owe it to her?”

Hermione sighed. It was unfair of Fleur to use that against her. 

“Fine.” Hermione flexed her jaw. An old anger boiled to the surface. “But I call dibs on killing that _salaud_ that cursed you.”

Fleur scoffed. “Only if you can beat me to it.”

Hermione smirked. “Is that a challenge Delacour?”

“You’re cute if you think you’re on my level, Granger.”

* * *

And that was how it first started – their killing spree of murderers around eastern Europe. True to their word, they helped end the Hundred Years’ War between France and Britain, fighting off British forces one by one. In the end, France kept their kingdom independent of British rule. 

After that, they traveled from country to country, hunting down murderer after murderor for food. They watched as time passed them by, their love ever growing, ever changing. 

* * *

  
  


Fleur sunk her teeth into the Death Eater’s neck, relishing in the way his life wriggled out of his limp body. 

“Aw, dammit!” Hermione cried, melting out of the shadows. “That’s so unfair! I cornered him first.”

Fleur smirked, dropping the Death Eater to the ground. “You snooze, you lose darling. What is that now? 214,201 to 214,189?”

Hermione wrinkled her nose. 

Fleur laughed. “Catch up babe, you’re falling behind. Don’t tell me you’re getting” – she faked a gasp – _“old.”_

Hermione made a noise of offence. “You take that back! I’m only like five hundred years old. Besides, you’re older than me!” 

Fleur grinned and pulled her grumpy wife into her arms. Even after all this time, it was so hard to resist her. 

“I’m sorry I called you old,” Fleur said teasingly. 

Hermione pouted at her. “I swear the next guy we hunt is mine.”

“Oh?” Fleur raised an eyebrow. “How about we aim a little higher than our usual grub then?”

“Who are you thinking?”

Fleur smirked as she leaned into Hermione’s ears. “I was thinking, it’s about time we went after the Dark Lord himself, don’t you think?”

Hermione made a face. “Voldemort? I really don’t want to drink his blood. I feel like it’d taste nasty.”

Fleur chuckled. “Are you backing out?”

“Never.” 

“Good.”

Fleur leaned in and pressed her lips into Hermione’s. 

This was their eternity and she could never ask for anything better. 

**Author's Note:**

> Did that count as "Drinking Games"?
> 
> Lmao. I have no words. Will someone pls write an actual fleurmione vampire au? I would flip out.


End file.
